


'cause i'll always remember you the same

by thelemonisinplay



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelemonisinplay/pseuds/thelemonisinplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur writes a letter to his mother. Written for the Cabin Crew Riot 2.</p><p>(Title edited 17.7.14 - it's the same song lyric, just extended slightly so that it makes more sense.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	'cause i'll always remember you the same

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Keep Your Head Up, by Ben Howard. 
> 
> Written for the Cabin Crew Riot 2 - Prompt #7: Missing Person (Carolyn)

Dear Mum,

It’s probably a bit silly that I’m writing to you. It’s not like you’re going to be able to read this, is it? But, I feel like I should, because I still have things to say to you even though I’ve known you for my whole life, and you’d think I’d have said everything in all that time. And even though you’re not here, and I am, I want to say them even though you won’t be able to hear them. Or see them, I suppose, because I’m writing this down. I just … I want to say it anyway.

I miss you. All the time. And I suppose that’s not a thing I could have said when you were here, because when you were here I didn’t miss you, because you were here. That’s probably obvious. But normally when I saying things like that, and my brain runs too fast and I can’t stop myself, you can help work out what I mean and slow everything back down and make it all okay again.

I mean, living with Douglas is great, obviously. We get on really well like you and me did. But it’s really hard to forget the reason I have to live with him, and that makes us both really sad. I don’t know if I’ll be able to be here forever, either, and I don’t know where else I’d go.

Dad called the other day. It was that thing he does every year, to see if he could buy G-ERTI off you. It was the first time I’d spoken to him since – since it happened. And I’d forgotten to tell him about what happened, I think because I was trying not to remember, and so I had to do it then, on the phone. And I had to try not to cry, because you know he never liked that, but he seemed a bit sad himself. I think he might be coming to see me soon. I don’t know what to think about that.

We all went back to work yesterday. We didn’t want to, not yet, not without you, but there was a booking, and Herc said he thought you’d want us to. I suppose you would, wouldn’t you, you always liked when we were flying, because it made the business less likely to fail. And I think you liked being in the air with us, playing word games and things.

We didn’t play any word games though. Everyone was really quiet, and when I mixed up how the teas and coffees were made, Skip and Douglas didn’t mind. And when we did speak, Martin got halfway through asking where you were, like he’d forgotten, and then he went all sort of pale and got this funny look on his face, and Douglas had to take over the flying because he just left. I found him later, in the galley, trying to pretend he wasn’t crying.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe it’s just because it’s the sort of thing I’d tell you anyway, at teatime after a flight, or when we’re sat watching those documentaries with Snoopadoop. I miss that, but I can’t watch them by myself, because my eyes start feeling all prickly and that makes Douglas’s face go all funny and he has to go and make us both tea.

Snoopadoop’s okay, though. She’s not living with us, because Douglas’s garden isn’t very big and there’s not much time to take her for walks, but she’s living with Martin, his landlord said they could have her, and the students always take her for a walk. Sometimes I go and visit and just sit with her. I think she misses you, too.

Anyway, I have to go now. We’re going to see you – where you are, now. And I’ve got to leave this there, for you.

Love you,

Arthur


End file.
